We finally finished cleaning the old house yesterday morning, and I couldn’t get on the road home fast enough. I am so, so tired of being on the go. The kids and I ran some last errands, packed up the car and hit the road. We had brought a ton of cleaning supplies and toys with us, so that combined with all of the stuff we ended up cleaning out of the house had the car packed to the top.
I couldn’t find a gas station, and when I finally did I noticed that there were detour signs for the freeway we were supposed to be on. My pickiness saved us from getting stuck in construction traffic, and I was thinking that combined with the fact that a new gas cap had fixed the Check Engine light that had come on earlier made us pretty lucky.
And even though at the time it didn’t seem like it, our luck continued when my tire blew. It wasn’t bad, it felt like we had gone too far onto the shoulder and hit the rumble strip, but I realized what happened and reacted fast enough that I got the car stopped and pulled off the road with no trouble. It was the one spot in miles and miles where there was actually a shoulder and a good spot to pull off. We were only about a half hour or so from home, and Jake was able to come right down to change it for me. (I’m going to stick with the story that the spare was flat so I couldn’t have changed it on my own anyway.) Only one person stopped, someone driving a truck for a company called GCR, to make sure we were okay. No one else bothered, but I’m kind of thinking that since we were all in the car and I wasn’t trying to flag down help or anything no one felt like they needed to. I honestly didn’t WANT anyone to stop because I’d have been too worried about them being axe murderers to accept their help. It could have gone very, very badly, and I am so glad that our luck held out so long.
I wish I had taken pictures of the tire, the tread totally separated from the sidewall. Needless to say, we won’t be taking THAT car any farther than in-town trips until it has four new tires.